


Something In the Works

by jdmcool



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: shkinkmeme, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson seems to be the only one who believes that Holmes will not ruin his anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something In the Works

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a lovely little [SHKink Meme Prompt](http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com/9194.html?thread=21881578#t21881578). Still not particularly good at this "Sherlock" thing and I'm not sure I'm getting better.

John Watson had been at the flower shop, looking over a particularly stunning bouquet of white roses when he received the text. It had been brief and concise, a message from Mrs. Hudson on how he might care to check in on Holmes. Figuring that perhaps said message came for a reason, he tried to call his friend, hoping that an actual visit could be avoided at such a time. Of course, the moment that the call went to an automated message about how the voicemail was full and that no message could be left, Watson knew he wouldn’t be so fortunate.

Looking over at the flowers and then at the hopeful store clerk, obviously wanting to make the sale, Watson gave an apologetic smile as he walked over to the man.

“I’ll be back for those. Please don’t sell them,” he pleaded before making his way out.

Walking out, he began to make his way down the busy streets, cane in hand as he started to call Mary. It would only be right to tell her that he may be home a bit later than expected. Starting up a video chat, he waited a bit impatiently until her smiling face appeared.

“Coming home soon?” She questioned immediately.

Pursing his lips as he looked away, he couldn’t help but shake his head disappointedly. “I’ll be home late.”

“Patient?”

“You could say that.”

“Where are you?” Mary questioned curiously. Her eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, as though she was inspecting all that could be seen in the background.

Watson opened his mouth to reply, casting a quick glance around to give a rather precise answer, but when he looked back at his phone, Mary was smiling coyly as she did; amused with something he couldn’t immediately place.

“You’re visiting him,” she stated casually.

Giving a small roll of his eyes, Watson shrugged rather helplessly. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

“John,” she warned.

“I will. I’m just checking in because Mrs. Hudson texted me and he’s not answering his phone.”

The look on her face said she still didn’t believe him. Sitting there, legs pulled up to her chest as she cocked her head and stared him down through the phone. The smile that first came to her face when she realized he was headed to 221B Baker Street hadn’t dissipated though. No, per usual, it seemed as though she was mostly upset with the idea that he may have been lying.

Sighing softly, he stared right back at her, fixing her with a stern look. “I will be home on time. It’s our anniversary and nothing will keep me from you.”

“I think you underestimate the lengths he tends to go to.”

“I will not let him ruin this night. I have plans for you, Mrs. Watson.”

Brushing her hair over her shoulder, Mary nodded, though it was clear she still didn’t believe him. Looking back to the screen, she said, “I have to charge this. You go check on him, Mr. Watson.”

“I’ll be home,” he complained, wishing that she would just believe him.

Nodding in agreement, she added, “Give Mr. Holmes my regards, John.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With the she blew him a kiss, a gesture that that made him smile to himself as the conversation was ended. Stopping in front of the flat he used to share with his old friend, Watson sighed heavily, finger tapping against his phone before placing it in his pocket and heading in.

Looking around, he was a bit worried about the initial silence. Granted, noise likely would’ve been just as disconcerting as Holmes somehow managed to make both states seem worrisome. Tapping his cane against the wall, he called out, “Mrs. Hudson?”

The woman made her way down the stairs in quite the haste, an exasperated look on her face as she rushed over to him. “Thank God, you’re here. He’s gone mad again.”

“I’m sure nothing could be that bad.”

“Oh it’s far worse,” Mrs. Hudson claimed, nothing if not serious.

Which was more than enough to make the doctor wonder if he shouldn’t visit a bit more than he tended to instead of relying on his phone and computer for means of communication. Especially since such things only tended to work when the other participant kept up with it as well.

“I’ll check on him,” Watson assured her as he patted her arm.

Eyes a bit wide as she stared at him, she said, “You should come by more often. He’s less manic with you around.”

“I’m sure it’s just a lack of work,” he laughed as he made his way up the stairs.

He could hear Mrs. Hudson go off to get them tea or something of the sort, ever a good hostess. It made him smile as he reached the door. At least until he heard the unmistakable sounds of a violin. Certainly if Holmes was calm enough to do that, he was almost certainly a bit better off than what he was led to believe. Upon walking in, he realized how mistaken he had been.

“What the hell have you done to this place?” He questioned as he ran his hand down the bullet holes spelling out V.R.

Everything in the room bled old Victorian styles. From the furniture to the wall paper Watson didn’t exactly remember being there to the tiger skin run. It made Holmes and the laptop playing music in the corner seem rather anachronistic. Cautiously walking into the room, he stood next to Holmes’ chair, the man himself only to be too happy to be sitting in a mess of papers.

“Do you like it? I find it refreshing,” he said happily.

“Where did you even get this? Is that a tiger skin rug?” Watson questioned the moment he noticed it. Slowly lowering himself down next to it, he ran his hand along the head of the long dead animal before fixing Holmes with a glare. “You do realize they’re endangered, don’t you?”

“Well, when the Doctor arrives, I will be sure to have him go and tell my ancestors such a fact.”

“Your family just had a tiger skin rug lying around?” He asked incredulously. But the moment Holmes opened his mouth to speak, he shook his head. “Never mind. Of course the Holmes family merely had this all lying about.”

“Is that a slight against my family?”

“Would you care either way?”

Holmes tapped his chin before nodding. Rising from his seat, he made his over to the record player, turning it off as he stared out the window. “Stay down.”

“What?”

He looked up just in time to see Holmes turn quickly, a flash of something silver leaving his hand. Looking in the direction of the object, he saw that it was one of those throwing stars found in bad kung-fu movies. It was neatly embedded in the wall, a few scant inches from an exasperated Mrs. Hudson’s head.

Getting up as quickly as he could, Watson rushed over to her, taking the tray of tea and biscuits. “Mrs. Hudson, I’m so sorry for him and his behavior,” he said, glaring over at Holmes, who seemed to be playing innocent.

“That’s nothing. You should was he does to the rat.”

“It’s a ferret! Nanny.”

“Ferret? Holmes, why would you have a ferret?”

Holmes waved his hand dismissively, clearly in no mood to answer such a question.

“He seems to go through a number of animals without reason. You’re lucky you didn’t bring Gladstone,” Mrs. Hudson remarked.

Scoffing, Holmes walked over to them and stared down the woman. “That will be all, nanny.”

Ignoring him, Mrs. Hudson merely turned to Watson. “Whatever you have him taking isn’t working nearly as well as you might’ve hoped,” she said before leaving.

Frowning around the biscuit in his mouth, Watson sat down in Holmes’ chair as his friend watched him carefully.

“Why would Mrs. Hudson believe that I’ve prescribed you something recently? Are you taking something?”

“Watson, it’s a good thing you’re here,” Holmes said as though he had just noticed the fact that the man was there. “I have this suspicion.”

“Because you know abusing prescription drugs--”

“I believe something is in the works. A horrible something--”

“Is wrong, not to mention illegal. Especially--”

“That most likely has something to do with-”

“If you are using my pad to write your own. Again”

“Moriarty. I’m not quite sure what he’s up to but, I know he is, in fact, up to something.”

Sighing, Watson shook his head and rose to his feet. Cupping Holmes’ cheeks to ensure that the man looked at him as he spoke, Watson said, “You need a therapist.”

“Had one before. Didn’t work. Well, not for me. He said it was very refreshing to have someone to talk to, though, about his issues.”

Staring at Holmes and his impassively curious look, Watson couldn’t decide if the man was being serious or not. Not that it actually mattered since that wasn’t the crux of the matter anyways. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and did his best not to allow himself to be distracted.

“You need to stop messing about with drugs, legal or otherwise, especially since your rarely get them legally. And you need to stop pestering Mrs. Hudson. she shouldn’t have to call me to deal with you.”

With that said, he nodded to himself before moving away from the man. Making his way over to the door, he checked his phone and decided that if he rushed, he might be able to get the flowers and get home no later than he had said. He was certain that would certainly stun Mary more than any gift.

“Where are you going?” Holmes called out after him though.

Stopping in his tracks, Watson looked at the door knob before turning to face his friend. “I am going home to Mary.”

“I’m almost certain that can wait, can it not? Moriarty is up to something.”

“And he may very well still be up to it tomorrow. But tonight is the only anniversary of my wedding.”

Holmes’ mouth twitched with something that may have been disgust at him bringing up such a fact. Of course, that didn’t stop him from nodding in agreement and turning his back on his friend as he walked to the door that led to a room that had once been Watson’s.

“Right. Well, if that’s the case, you simply go on and go be with your wife. I’m certain there’s a statistically small chance of his plans coming to fruition tonight after all,” Holmes said, trying to wave it all off.

Shaking his head, Watson told himself he wasn’t going to fall for something as simple as a reverse psychology ploy. Not when Mary was waiting for him at home with dinner and a store owner was waiting for him to buy a bouquet. He had places to be that were far more important that Holmes and his latest theory on the plans of James Moriarty.

Quickly making his way over to his friend, he tapped his shoulder. “Holmes?”

“Hmm?” The man questioned as he turned to face him smugly.

Rolling his eyes, Watson cupped the back of his neck and kissed him. It wasn’t a pleasant kiss at first. In fact, it was rather awkward with Holmes simply standing there, breathing steadily through his nose as their stubble grazed against their faces. But the moment Watson moved to end it, Holmes gripped the front of his shirt and held him there, the chaste kiss devolving into a mix of tongue and teeth as they pressed against each other.

Forcing himself to move away, Watson cleared his throat as Holmes casually wiped the corner of his mouth.

“I think I miss almost miss your moustache,” Holmes remarked with a shrug.

Chuckling, Watson nodded. “November is in ten months.”

“Far too long,” Holmes said.

Watson nodded in agreement, though he decided to leave it at that as he walked back to the door. He still had flowers to buy and a wife to surprise. And all of that on top of what would only become a nagging feeling concerning Moriarty.

“Do return said regards to Mary for me,” Holmes called out after him.

Smiling to himself, Watson merely held up his cane in acknowledgement that he would as he said, “Delete the messages on your phone. And charge it.”

Not that he expected the man would. If anything, he would likely leave the thing missing until the day, which was almost guaranteed to see Watson’s appearance again. After all, if Holmes was willing to put up his worries concerning Moriarty for a day, Watson had to see him through whatever it was the man had planned the next day.


End file.
